


Standing Still

by relaxovision



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Sleeping Warrior, Sleeping Warrior Week, Storybrooke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relaxovision/pseuds/relaxovision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 1 AU: Mulan and Aurora fell victim to Regina's curse.  This is the story of how they lost hope in The Enchanted Forest and how they fight to get it back in Storybrooke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Still

**Author's Note:**

> Name Chart:
> 
> Fiona= brilliant, fair  
> Nora= honor  
> Hǎi = sea  
> Cadmus= Phoenician prince who used the same tactic to overpower his opponents as The Valiant Little Tailor
> 
> There are two premises to take into account while reading this story: 
> 
> 1\. In my version the curse can only be broken by True Love that’s also New Love.  
> 2\. The entire S1 is still canon.

Once upon a time there were a mighty warrior and a witty princess. One was mistaken for weak, the other for a fool.

They hated each other.

The princess would rain spite upon the warrior, accusing her of jealousy whenever the warrior would turn her gaze towards the princess’s fiancé — a prince as kind as he was handsome. The warrior would in return scold the princess harshly for making up assumptions.

Little did they know how their fate would intertwine.

War broke out and wreaked havoc upon all lands when an Evil Queen declared to seek vengeance on all those who’d wronged her. Her wrath brought hell to every living creature, and everyone who knew how to was sent to fight — anyone who could stand up did. Anyone who could hold a sword or a dagger or a pitchfork marched into battle. It was the war to end all wars.

The mighty warrior and the princess’s fiancé drew their swords to defeat dragons and ogres and soldiers and magic. Side by side they fought many battles, and their friendship made them strong. They had each other’s backs and they had each other’s trust.

The prince, the princess and the warrior clung to each other more and more as the months passed. They traveled together through enchanted forests and kingdoms far away. And they had to realize that in a world that forces its loathing onto the innocent, they couldn’t loathe each other, too. Wit and physical strength and kindness became a family. They changed each other for the better. Soon the princess learned to fight, the warrior learned to use her wit, and they both learned to treat each other with kindness.

But the Evil Queen’s rage knew no bounds. She unleashed every bit of darkness from her heart to destroy not only men and women, but love itself. Her vow to share her own hurt grew stronger by the minute. For every soldier that she lost she’d send another hundred.

There was a rumor that she was using an artifact known only from ancient legends: the Cauldron of Rebirth, which could revive a soldier’s body and keep their souls in exchange.

Devastation was great when this rumor was proven true. Brave people would die and come back, fighting for the Queen instead. Parents turned against their children, who didn’t dare fight back. 

The armies of the Good vowed not to rest until their freedom would be secured. But every little victory was followed by a backlash. Kingdoms fell one after another. The warrior’s land was wiped out come winter; the princess’s kingdom was destroyed in spring. They never stood a chance against pure evil.

The prince could do nothing to console his loved ones’ hearts. He could only fight harder, and promise to protect their lives at any cost. The princess and the warrior found a glimpse of consolation in each other’s friendship.

.

One day they were traveling through the woods. Word had gotten out that one of the Queen’s greatest allies, King George, had fallen and the leader of the Good’s army, Snow White, was taking the castle back. It seemed like their chance to find companions in a hopeless world.

They only made it half the way before they were ambushed by soldiers in shining black armor. The soldiers were just a few, but they had the Queen’s power and they fought like beasts.

The warrior’s sword cut a neck and a calf and a chest, and the prince killed two men before an arrow struck his shoulder and forced him to his knees. The princess surged forward to avenge the prince’s injury and the attack ended only seconds after it had begun.

A few seconds would then change their lives forever.

When silence had settled upon them again, the princess turned around to find the mighty warrior crying over the prince’s body. The arrow had been poisoned and their family had lost another member.

The princess fell, lay next to the prince’s body, sobbing and crying and begging for death to take her, too.

It was then that the warrior looked upon the princess’s face and truly saw what they both had lost — it was then that she swore to protect the princess’s life before her own.

“I promise,” Mulan said. “Whatever will come, whatever we will have to face, what danger the Queen will send our way — I will never leave your side. From now on forever you will have a family in me.”

The princess wiped her eyes and took Mulan’s hand.

Mulan pulled her up to her feet. “We will find time to grieve for Phillip. One day we’ll be able to stop fighting and mourn the loss of everyone we loved. But for now we need to move on.”

The princess just shook her head. “What are we even fighting for anymore?” Mulan found the answer in her heart:

“I’m fighting for you. I will always keep on fighting for you, Aurora.”

.

Fiona is the kind of girl whom you’ll see watering flowers, but not taking out trash. She’s delicate and faint and not remarkable at all. She doesn’t speak until spoken to and she smiles at anyone who’ll grace her with attention.

She’s quiet and shy and easy to forget between encounters. Her long dresses are as pale as her face. She rarely reveals anything about herself, mostly because there wouldn’t be many people willing to listen.

Fiona wraps herself in mist and in oblivion. Sometimes she glows like the sun and then she lurks in the shadows like a stray cat. Her home is made of light beige walls, dark laminate and blandness.

She hates her life, hates being stuck, hates being nobody. From the bottom of her heart, she hates it.

She greets people friendly as she passes them by, before her gaze meets the floor again and her hand comes up to tuck a golden stray lock behind her ear.

Sometimes Ruby chats with her at Granny’s and Fiona’s smile becomes a little brighter and sincere.

There are a few rumors going around about Fiona: They say she doesn’t have any friends. They say her mother died shortly after Fiona’s birth and that her father always kept her from going out. They say she’s a little weird and that her entire existence seems like a dream; no one knows if she’s actually awake. They call her the sleeping beauty.

_Such a shame._

They also say that her relationship to men is rather suspicious, as she rejects all possible suitors — especially Whale. That’s why Granny doesn’t like the way Fiona looks at Ruby. Some call her a dyke.

_What a waste._

Some people don’t want anything to do with her. Some say it doesn’t make a difference; it’s easy to tolerate her when Fiona doesn’t actually live — she exists. As soon as you see her she’s almost gone again.

Fiona realizes that her reputation is partly her own fault. She doesn’t seek attention and she doesn’t enjoy eye contact. She doesn’t isn’t active. Instead she dwells on thoughts and dreams and floats through the ether like a being made of energy and delusion. She thinks too much and acts too little. Self-loathing and being loathed go hand in hand; it’s hard to say which one came first.

Some days it’s like she’s caught in a strange nightmare where everything’s blurry. It’s hard to recognize people’s faces when they pass her by and everything loses its meaning. Faces are grey and words don’t make sense. Names vanish. It’s like she doesn’t belong in Storybrooke. It’s like she can see the dimensions shift – as if reality was trying to correct a horrid mistake. She thinks thoughts that aren’t hers and she hears voices she doesn’t know.

One voice in particular occupies her mind a lot: A woman — someone she should recognize but doesn’t. And Fiona calls for her and the sound of it is so familiar, so comfortable, that everything else seems surreal in comparison. It’s not rare that Fiona cries when she realizes she’s been gone. Then she thinks that she might be nothing more than a giant fluke — the universe’s greatest accident.

.

“I want to go somewhere,” she tells Ruby one day at the diner, because Ruby is the only one who ever really cares. Ruby, Fiona thinks, seems as much an anachronism as she — and is harshly underestimated.

Sometimes Fiona is lucky enough to find Ruby when Granny’s is empty and then she doesn’t have to endure the stares and whispers. She knows exactly what Granny thinks of her and her friendship to Ruby. The old woman can be intimidating. Fiona’s only thankful that Ruby doesn’t share her grandmother’s old fashioned sentiments.

“Where?” Ruby pours another coffee and smiles. She’s kind and doesn’t judge. Ruby, the girl with red streaks in her hair and a devilish glint in her eyes and a shit eating contagious grin — she’s the only one who’d never reject Fiona just because she’s there. Maybe it’s because she knows too well what it’s like being nobody. Maybe it’s because a part of her execrates life as much as Fiona does.

Fiona adds some milk and stares down at the counter. She loathes everything, except for her one friend in the world.

“I don’t know. Boston.” she shrugs. It’s a half-hearted answer. The truth is that ‘away’ is the only goal she’s ever thought of. ‘Gone’ seems appealing.

“There’s nothing to achieve for me here. I’m a maid. I can be a maid anywhere.”

Ruby purses her lips and raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you should do it.” she says. And she sounds so sincere that Fiona is startled.

“Do you think I can?” No one ever puts trust in her.

Ruby shrugs. “Of course.” she insists. She sighs and for a second she seems to be caught in her very own daydream. “Actually, I might come with you.”

The corners of Fiona’s lips shoot up at the thought. Going away with a friend would be a lot easier — a lot better — than going alone.

“But aren’t you afraid?” She doesn’t know whom she’s asking. “And Granny?” Fiona is stirring her coffee; she’d forgotten about her cup three long trains of thought ago.

Ruby smiles again, sadly. “I’m more afraid of being stuck here forever. I’m a waitress.” Her smile is tinged with bitterness. “I can be a waitress anywhere.” She leans on the counter and cups her cheeks with her hands and stares into Fiona’s cup. “Granny will have to find someone else to order around.”

They laugh, because they both know their dreams are foolish. No one ever leaves Storybrooke. And no one ever becomes anything they aren’t already.

.

“You’ll look so pretty in this dress!”

Nora’s mother is holding up what must be the three hundredth white dress Nora’s tried on today. And they all look the same, at least in Nora’s eyes: Like curtains made from the finest of chains, sealing her body and face and soul. Nora nods and dies a little with every forced smile.

And she fumbles with the ring on her finger and thinks about the future she never wanted.

“Mother.” she finally says, “I’m not sure I want to marry him.” Her mother stops and almost drops the dress she’s been waving around. Nora averts her eyes in order not to see the disappointment. “We’ve never even met.”

“Nonsense.” Her mother says it calmly, as if it was a simple fact. “He’s a well respected man and once he inherits his father’s company he’s going to be able to provide for you and as many children as you’ll be blessed with.”

At the word “children” Nora winces and holds her breath and her vision blurs. There’s a buzzing noise drowning her mind.

“Not to mention that he’s one of exactly two Chinese men available in Storybrooke. And he’s handsome, too.”

As if that detail would change anything.

Nora rolls her eyes and, with a sigh, lets herself fall backwards into a chair.

“I know all that.” she mumbles. “I’m not a teenager anymore. And we’re living in the 21st century. You can’t just take all these choices from me.”

Of course she knows it’s a lie. Her mother will continue to make decisions for Nora, and Nora — for reasons she fails to fathom, will continue to obey.

Yet she tries. “But why does he have to be Chinese? Because we are? And why does it have to be someone from Storybrooke? There’s so much more out there. I could go to Boston and…”

“And do what?”

Her mother’s words are venom and her angry glare silences Nora like it always does.

Anything, she thinks.

.

Nora, much like Fiona, lives in a world where everything is but a dream. She gets up early to open Cadmus’s shop and prepare the tailor’s tools. She checks orders and takes calls. She wipes the counter and sweeps the floor and waits for time to pass her by.

All her days are exactly the same.

When her boss tells her she’s pretty she smiles, faintly, and wonders why that even matters.

Nora never dreamed of her wedding day like she knows other girls did when they were younger. But now that the ring on her finger feels more and more like a weight pulling at her bones, anchoring her to a future that’s forced upon her, she knows for certain that this is nothing that she wants.

Sometimes, on these rare days when the sky is blue and the sun is bright she watches the horizon and images appear like blurry memories from a past life: There’s war and there’s pain. But there’s also hope — there are allies whom she fought with. Nora feels her the wind through her long raven hair and she can almost smell the battle field. It reeks of fire and death and independency. Then her own name sounds strange to her; it hurts to avert her eyes and come back to reality. It’s like she dies a little each time she wakes up.

Sometimes the nights are filled with dreams about a strange world where dragons fly and she defeats magic with her trusty blade. There’s a kingdom far away – a prince she vowed to protect and a princess, enthralling to the eye, with hair of gold, a smile that makes her want to fall to her knees, and as witty as she’s beautiful. In her dreams she knows this woman and they love and cherish each other.

But those visions don’t come to her often, and Nora forgets about them until they’re there again, more real than anything she’s ever seen or felt before. She embraces the princess and holds her tight to her chest, like a treasure. They spend the hours together and hours stretch to days. They go on journeys through the Enchanted Forest. They fight together, grow together, lie together, exist together. They laugh and kiss and mourn those who’ve died.

Whenever it’s been one of those nights, it is impossible to come back to reality. Nora presses her eyes shut, pushes her face into the pillow and tries to remember every detail about every adventure she and the nameless princess have taken on together. She tries to remember her voice, her face, her smile, and the smell of her hair. She thinks of the blade that belongs to her, too — that she used to protect her princess.

But she always has to get up eventually and by the time hot water rushes down her skin in the shower, every single image is gone.

.

Graham’s death catches everyone off-guard. No one ever dies in Storybrooke.

Fiona hears about it at work: she’s cleaning Regina Mills’ office when the phone rings and the mayor picks up. Her tone changes quickly from snappy to disturbed to angry, and even though Fiona doesn’t mean to be nosy, the word “dead” catches her attention. She hears the mayor say “fault,”  “demand” and “immediately” and tries to focus even harder on dusting the counter. What she doesn’t need right now is to become the target of Madam Mayor’s wrath.

Fiona only saw the sheriff a couple of times and talked to him exactly twice: once because of a parking ticket and once because she accidentally ran into him at the supermarket. The chats were short, but Fiona thought of him as a kind man. He seemed like a good person – someone who chose his words wisely and meet everyone at eye level. He didn’t look down on her but regarded her with respect, even though their encounters were brief.

She watches the mayor rush out and bites her lip and thinks that now that there’s death added to her vocabulary it doesn’t seem like such a repelling concept.

.

It’s late afternoon when Fiona walks home. The sun is setting and the air is filled with the crickets’ tune. But Fiona is too lost in thought to notice.

She thinks about death and about the void it leaves. It creates an awkward feeling in her gut to know that she’ll never accidentally run into Graham again, and she wonders if there’ll be someone to take his place – or if that’s possible. Maybe, she thinks, just like her he wasn’t meant to be here, either. Fiona can’t rid herself of the thought that every one of her experiences is a mistake. Storybrooke seems so strange — today more than ever — with the tower clock moving forward after years of standing still, and the clouds forever covering the sun.

She’s not particularly sad, but irritated. It’s like she wakes up gradually. And then she wakes up again to realize that she’s been dreaming all along. And when everything is normal and she feels awake, another thing changes and everything starts spinning and Graham dies again and Fiona’s left wondering where this leaves her. She’s also falling into a deeper sleep with every minute.

Ruby said they could leave, that she doesn’t need to be stuck here. It made sense when there was no perspective. But now the entire town seems to come alive – she can see it in people’s faces, even if it’s only occasionally: there’s hope where before there was stagnation, resignation and misery.

And then it feels like irony, because that’s not the thought that death should cause. At the same time, wasn’t death a perspective just a few hours ago?

A little bell rings as she enters the grocery store and Fiona ducks her head out of reflex, because accidental eye contact would prove her existence. Right now she’s invisible. She thinks about change and how yet again she’s bound to Storybrooke — because the hope she senses and the perspective that death brings the promise of even more change is what makes her want to stay. There’s something tugging at her limbs, telling her to quit moving forward, to grab the hands of the tower clock and force them to come to a halt again. There’s also something turning her insides upside down and it feels like everything and everyone is whirling around her in an attempt to reorganize and structure; the world is trying to correct its flukes. She’s living in dichotomy.

Fiona bites her lip and furrows her brows. Her head aches and none of her thoughts are her own anymore.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!”

She stumbles backwards and it takes a few seconds for her mind to catch on and for Fiona to realize she’s been hit by a shopping cart. She shakes her head and looks up into the face of someone vaguely familiar: pale face, short black hair, green eyes, and obnoxiously beautiful. Maybe she’s seen her before, in a dream.

“It’s ok. I’m fine.” Fiona says, and only then does she check if she actually is. Her left hip stings a little, but it’s nothing she can’t ignore. She rubs it lightly. “I’m fine,” she repeats, mostly for herself.

“I’m really sorry,” the woman says as she grabs the handle of her cart. “I don’t know where my mind’s been lately.”

Fiona smiles and wraps her arms around herself. “I know that feeling.” she answers. She attempts to walk on, the other woman stops her. “Haven’t I seen you before? You look familiar.”

Fiona shakes her head. “That’s unlikely. People usually don’t notice me.”

The statement is met with furrowed brows and a strange flicker in the woman’s eyes. “I’m Mary Margaret.”

Fiona hesitantly takes the hand she’s been offered. “Fiona,” she says, voice low. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just a bit shaken up. Someone died.”

“Oh no!” Mary Margaret rushes around her cart, attempts to place her palm on Fiona’s arm. “I’m so sorry!”

But Fiona steps back, dodges the touch. “It’s ok.” she says. “It’s not someone I knew very well.”

“Oh.” Mary Margaret nods in understanding. “Well, death always makes us think about ourselves and our lives. It’s only natural.”

Fiona squints and thinks. “Is it, though?” she counters. “Because I don’t remember last time anybody died. I don’t even know what people are supposed to think when someone dies. Everything is getting stranger by the day and I know I should feel _something_. But I don’t — not really.” It strikes her that she’s talking to a stranger and she smiles apologetically.

“Everything is getting stranger.” Mary Margaret confirms and her eyes are suddenly a whole shade darker than before.

“I thought I was the only one who feels that way. I thought that I’m being foolish; that I’m making things up.” A bitter laughter bubbles up in her throat; it makes Fiona shiver.

“I met someone,” Mary Margaret says. “And I know him. But I don’t. Nothing makes sense anymore. I’m constantly confused and,” she chews on her bottom lip, contemplating — then stares Fiona straight in the eyes. It’s impossible to look away now. “Sometimes I wake up and I’m not sure if I’m awake.” She almost whispers as if she was afraid of being caught — as if Fiona and Mary Margaret were doing something forbidden. Fiona ducks her head and whispers back: “I feel like that every day.” 

.

Mulan and Aurora’s journey led them deeper into the woods than they had ever traveled before. Soon enough there was no path to follow anymore — only the vague direction they had gotten from the ballads people sang to honor Snow White’s kingdom.

They held on to this last bit of hope and they held on to each other. Mulan wouldn’t fall victim to doubt and grief — not if there was the slightest chance to win the war.

Legend had it that Snow’s army was the strongest in all the lands — stronger than the Huns — every man a brave hero, every woman equipped with an invincible heart.

But even the roads we build ourselves will eventually lead us to crossroads.

“I’m so tired,” Aurora said one night when they sat by the fire.

Mulan watched the flames — her knees pulled up to her chin. Her skin had long become a second armor. It failed to shield her from hurt; it only kept the ice inside.

“You should get some sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

Aurora only shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Of course Mulan understood what her princess was talking about. She felt the same weight pulling at her limbs: the burden of having lost everything and everyone; the everlasting doubt throwing its devastating shadow upon them.

If it had been any other war Mulan would have ignored Aurora’s words. She would have pushed through all despair and fought off any questions.

This wasn’t any other war, though. This was the last war Mulan’s kingdom had seen. It was the last war she had fought together with Prince Phillip. This war had killed almost everything Mulan had been.

So she opened her arms for Aurora, who hesitantly took the invitation.

“I’m tired, too,” Mulan admitted. “But we can’t give up. I haven’t traveled all the way to surrender.”

Aurora leaned against her warrior. She felt the coldness seeping through Mulan’s clothes and wished she’d find a way to warm both their hearts.

“You’re right,” she said. “Together we still stand a chance.”

.

It’s all awkward glances and rubbing arms and staring anywhere but straight ahead for Nora. Opposite the table sits Hǎi, and he’s biting his cheek and seems just as uncomfortable as she is. He’s handsome, Nora admits. His eyes sparkle black: tiny laugh lines adorn the corners. Nora guesses he works out — for a moment she tries to figure out what sport he might be into, before remembering she doesn’t actually care — not about him. Maybe she does care about sports. She’s definitely fascinated by martial arts, even though she never got the chance to try it out herself.

If circumstances were different — if she were any other woman, she might consider asking Hǎi out.

But the circumstances are what they are and Nora has no interest in a set-up marriage; her mom’s pressure on her shoulders makes it impossible to regard Hǎi as anything but a threat to her free will.

“You hair looks nice,” he says and tries a nervous smile and shifts on his chair. Nora sighs. She knows she’s being impolite — that she agreed to the arrangement, even though the words of consent seemed to blurt out of her against her doing. She even agreed to this date. Except that her mind seems to shift whenever her mother is nowhere in sight. She feels stronger, not like herself — like someone else. She feels her heart thrum steady and her breath is deep.

She catches Ruby’s grin at her behind the counter. God knows what she’s up to, but Nora has long figured that Ruby is always up to _something_. The glint in her eye promises danger, even when her smile is honest. Nora thinks that Ruby’s the kind of person who’d die for her friends but never stand up for herself. She’s seen her interact with Granny a couple of times and it reminded her of home, where rules are strict and hopes die slowly. She likes Ruby. Maybe under different circumstances they could be friends. Maybe more.

But the circumstances are what they are and as Nora shifts her focus back to the man sitting across from her she catches the word “sorry”. She turns her head back to Hǎi, who obviously hasn’t noticed her mental absence.

“I’m sure you’re a wonderful woman,” he says, “But I must confess that I may have agreed to all of this only, because I…” He hesitates, stares at his hands on his lap. “I must apologize to you.” He doesn’t look up and Nora gets the idea that she must have missed something important. “Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore. I used to have hope, once upon a time, but lately it’s like that’s been ripped from me. And I feel like there’s something out there, something large. But I don’t know what it is. I agreed to this arrangement — because I’m always unhappy. I thought that a family would bring me the fulfillment I miss.” He’s blushing and his eyes are shut tight and his muscles are tighter. He even trembles a little. He looks so much older than her now — so much older than he actually is.

Nora presses her lips together. “What do you think is out there?” she asks.

He takes a deep breath, then lifts his head slowly. “You’re not mad?”

Nora shakes her head and smiles sadly. “Just tell me. What’s out there?”

He pauses and he thinks. He stares out the window towards the deserted street. Storybrooke is the town that always sleeps, day and night. “I’m not sure. Something.” Hǎi shrugs.

Nora takes a sip of her coffee. “Yeah.” Something. “Do you sometimes dream about a world where everything’s different?” Nora furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head. Everybody’s dreams are in another world. “Nevermind.”

“No.” Hǎi prompts. “I mean, tell me. I’ve told you, so it’s only fair.” And once again Nora regrets how little enthusiasm she has for this date. Because the man sitting across from her has charm, and his playful half-grin almost feels familiar. She mirrors it out of reflex.

“I never remember details, but when I’m asleep it’s like I’m living a second life. Suddenly I know who I’m supposed to be.” She shakes her head again, tries to come up with a single image that must be stored somewhere in the deepest darkest corner of her mind. But all she finds is the echo of a laugh. And she doesn’t recognize the voice.

It’s futile.

“Sometimes”, she leans forward. Her voice trembles, because what she’s about to share she’s never told anyone. “Sometimes I hate being alive, but I’m too afraid to be dead. I’d rather sleep forever, because even though I can’t remember what my dreams are about I know that I’m happy. Always.”

He swallows thickly and fumbles with his fingers.

“I’m sorry.” Nora quickly adds. “It’s too much. For a first date, it’s too much. I shouldn’t have…”

“No!” Hǎi interrupts. “No. I asked for your thoughts and you were being honest. It’s just weird.” He stares for what seems like forever and only because Nora is frozen entirely does she not make up some stale excuse to rush away; her mind is cracking up the earth and she’s more than willing to take that invitation.

“I feel the same way.”

They share a shy smile. A brief silence follows and Nora looks back to the counter, but Ruby is gone.

“So what do you dream about?” she asks when her gaze meets his again. “I mean, not during the night, because that’s apparently impossible to tell. During the day. What do you dream about?”

“It’s silly.” He laughs and rubs his neck.

“No dream is silly,” she counters, “and even if it were I think it’s safe to say that you’re not the only one suffering from silliness.”

He licks his lip and ponders. Then it’s his turn to lean forward. “I dream about,” he pauses and the flicker in his eyes seems like he’s about to reveal something true.

“Mermaids,” he says. “The ocean. A world I’m not a part of — yet.”

.

“If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?”

Ruby pops her bubble gum, scrunches her nose, lets out a quiet “hm.” A few seconds pass and then she says: “I really don’t know. I guess I never thought about it before.”

Fiona nods tersely. She expected exactly that answer. “And you don’t find that strange?” When all she gets is a confused stare, she continues: “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I always thought I’m out of place. I feel abstract — as if I’m always asleep. But ever since that clock tower started moving again I’ve noticed that,” she hesitates, and there’s a lump in her throat that’s preventing her from speaking. She forces the words out nonetheless: “Things are changing. It’s not just me, Ruby. Everybody here is _off_. And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, because you’re talking non-stop about how you want to leave, but you never do. You’ve got nothing that’s keeping you here and yet you don’t go anywhere. I’ve never been anywhere, Ruby. Don’t people go on vacation sometimes?”

“Like we could afford that.” Ruby shrugs, but purses her lips and averts her eyes, and Fiona knows she’s hit the nail on the head.

“Maybe it’s time we think about what we want to do with the rest of our lives.” she says. “An actual plan, not just vague daydreams.” She clenches her fists and fights the urge to quit, just quit like she always does — she could regress to being nobody. Things are changing, now, and change is good, because anything is better than the life Fiona’s living. “So think, Ruby. What do you want to do? If you could do anything, anything at all? What could be out there?”

Ruby’s eyes are wide open and the glint in her eyes sparkles brighter than ever. There are ideas, endless thoughts about a life worth living. There are wonders to discover and worlds to find.

“I...”

She stumbles backwards, almost trips over a chair.

But the moment’s passed too quickly — it’s all gone again and the light vanishes, clouded over with darkness.

“There’s nothing.” Ruby chokes out. “I’m _nothing_.”

For the first time, Fiona doesn’t believe her.

.

She’s there when the mayor’s house catches flames. Fiona was meant to work that night, but mayor Mills gave her the day off last minute.

Fiona stands outside the spotlight, away from the crowd, and watches the spectacle. Flames burst through the windows; Fiona can feel the heat despite the distance. It’s a threatening magnetism, like a truck driving by, creating a pull towards the wheels, and for a second you don’t know whether you’ll live or die.

People come and stare and take pictures. The gossip machinery goes to work immediately – vultures bathing in the mayor’s misfortune, leeching off the thrill. Even though it’s still unlikely, now that everything is changing, there’s a possibility someone might die. And death — now that’s exciting to watch.

The firefighters arrive just when the mayor leaves the house safely. She’s supported by a blonde woman Fiona has never seen before — but people call her the deputy, and they say she’ll be running for the sheriff’s office now that Graham is gone. It’s been two weeks, after all.

Fiona steps a little closer, out of the safety of the shadows, because there’s something about this person – Emma, she learns – that catches her attention. She fails to put her finger on it.

Until Emma lets go off the mayor and Regina Mills reacts the way anyone would predict: she lashes out at the person who saved her. Fiona is inclined to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. And Emma? She doesn’t falter. She doesn’t even return the insult. Fiona takes another step forward and suddenly what she was missing reveals itself— cracks open and washes over her. It’s there: Future!

Emma’s eyes are not the same color grey as everyone else’s and the glint Fiona sometimes sees in Ruby’s eyes is bright and doesn’t fade. Instead it lights up with the attack and it glows like the stars, and there’s so much opportunity – there’s a promise that there’s more than what Fiona knows, more than she has seen. There’s more to achieve.

She wraps her arms around herself and bites her lip and tries to soak up this feeling of newness and of revolution. It’s a brand new day in the middle of the gloomy night.

The fire is quickly put out and the crowd dissolves.

Fiona is the only one who got to watch a true spectacle.

.

The town hall is already brimming with voices when Nora arrives, but it’s not as packed as she expected. Events like this remind her how small Storybrooke actually is and how ignorant its citizens are:

A quick glance around shows that the building has the capacity to hold no more than about two hundred people. Nora thinks that that’s a fairly exclusive number, considering the election of a new sheriff is not something that happens every day — especially not in Storybrooke. She thought more people would be interested in such a spectacle. She thought more people would mourn Graham’s death. She expected more people to be curious about the stranger running for office.

Nora takes a seat next to her mother — third row, far left — and stares at the still dark stage. 

She knows Sidney Glass. Everyone knows him. He runs the local newspaper and writes ridiculously vague articles. Even calling the content of that paper “news” is an exaggeration. Nora’s mother buys The Mirror regularly, out of some weird sense of patriotism. Duty, Nora thinks, is such a neat direction — especially the blind kind.

“You’re late,” her mother hisses. Nora shakes her head. “I’m on time,” she states through clenched teeth. 

“What will people think?”

Nora rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Whatever they want to think, mother.” The wedding is still scheduled, despite the fact that her fiancé is as excited about to be wed as she is. A promise is a promise and cancellation would mean losing face. It doesn’t make sense no matter how Nora twists the words, but what alternative does she have?

“I don’t recognize you lately. What’s gotten into you?”

She ignores her mother’s words and crosses her arms.

The stage lights up and Archibald Hopper introduces the candidates, who have taken a seat next to the podium. Archie is an awkward, nervous mess and horribly misplaced. When he tells his audience to listen to their conscience, Nora huffs and receives another angry glare from her mother.

Sidney stands up first, and his speech is as short as it’s empty:

“I just want to say that if elected I want to serve as a reflection of the best qualities of Storybrooke:  Honesty, neighborliness and strength.”

Nora feels sarcastic laughter bubbling in her throat but swallows it quickly. ‘Honesty’ is surely not the first word that comes to mind when she thinks about Storybrooke.

Then Emma Swan approaches the podium and the atmosphere in the room changes: people shift in their seats, whisper under their breaths. Emma is new to Storybrooke and has made herself a name already. Nora read about the fire at the mayor’s house in The Mirror. The irony isn’t lost on her.

Emma clutches the edges of the podium and uncertainly scans the crowd. It seems as if she doesn’t feel heroic in spite of her reputation. In fact, Nora thinks, Emma Swan looks as if she’s about to jump out of her skin.

She stutters a few words and breathes too loudly, and just when Nora has written her off, Emma’s expression changes entirely. She’s determined now, posture steady, voice calm. She looks like a _warrior_.

The realization makes Nora freeze.

“The fire was a set-up.” Emma says and the room comes to life. She confesses how she was tricked by Mr. Gold and how she isn’t all that heroic.

Everybody around her is whispering now: words of doubt, words of disappointment. “I knew we couldn’t trust a stranger.” Nora’s mother declares.

Nora sits still in her seat and ignores the noise around her. She’s watching Emma.

Honesty and neighborliness and strength, she thinks, there it is — everything she thought she’d never see in Storybrooke. Emma slumps her shoulders and shuffles backwards backstage, but Nora doesn’t miss the relief in Emma’s voice, or the determination in her jaw. It washes over her, drowns out all noise. She remembers, remembers that there’s more, remembers that she has dreams to follow, even if she can’t recall them during the day. She remembers that there’s hope. 

Nora looks up again and searches faces around for reactions. There are people muttering their disappointment; there’s Mayor Mills with her satisfied smirk; there’s Mr. Gold, who can’t seem to rush out fast enough; there’re people creasing eyebrows and shaking their heads.

And then there’s _her_.

Her hair shines golden like the sun and her face is fair, her figure dainty. She’s looking around, like Nora, looking at all the people being upset or confused; and like Nora she doesn’t seem to be a part of the crowd.

Then their eyes meet and it’s like a jolt strikes Nora and she’s rooted to the spot. The noise fades, people vanish, sorrow fades away, until there’s only _her_. And _she_ is beautiful. She’s the dream within a nightmare; she’s good; she’s real; she creates a spot in Nora’s mind and nothing’s left to wonder about. There’s Nora’s future and her hope; there’s light forcing away darkness; there’s her smile and she smiles back. There’s no one Nora has ever known before and there won’t be anyone again. It’s _her_.

She doesn’t realize that she started moving until they’re standing in front of each other. Nora wants to speak, but her mind is blank and her mouth is dry. Blue eyes stare directly into hers.

“I’m sorry… have we met before?”

Nora blinks and shakes her head. “No. I mean, I don’t think we have.” She reaches out her hand. “I’m Nora.”

“Fiona.” Fiona smiles brilliantly and takes Nora’s hand into both of hers. “I feel like I should know you.” she says and squints and tilts her head slightly in contemplation. Nora nods, but states: “That’s impossible.” But is it?

She stands there, frozen to the spot and none of them realize that they haven’t been talking or that Fiona is still clutching Nora’s hand.

Until she lets go.

“Oh, sorry.” Fiona gasps and Nora can’t do anything but stare again, watch Fiona’s cheeks turn pink, watch her think and wonder, trying to come up with anything to say. She can only watch Fiona struggle and ball her fists.

“Maybe I should…” Fiona says and suddenly Nora is startled awake.

“No!” she interjects. “I mean, I…“ What she means to say is that she doesn’t want this moment to end and somewhere in the depth of Fiona’s eyes there’s the same thought buried under doubt and worry. Instead she says: “Maybe we could…”

And although she doesn’t finish the sentence Fiona says: “Yes,” and she’s already reaching into her pocket when Nora’s mother interrupts them harshly. Her tone is as condescending as ever. And she spits the words out like poison.

“What are you doing with _her_?” she snaps, as if she knew anything about Fiona at all — as if Fiona wasn’t the most wonderful thing in the world. Nora feels anger churning her stomach, not for the fact that her mother is yet again rebuking her, but because the mere notion that anyone would think badly of Fiona is infuriating.

“I’m talking.” Nora’s voice is steadier than it’s ever been in a conversation with her mother. She feels different – stronger.

“Well, we’re leaving.” Her mother doesn’t feel the change. She storms off without regarding Fiona again. Nora is appalled. And yet…

“See you around?” she ducks her head in shame and feels like such a teenager. Right this moment she doesn’t feel worthy of Fiona’s good graces. She doesn’t feel worthy of a chance. And yet…

Fiona somewhat hastily and somewhat clumsily reaches out and stuffs a folded piece of paper into Nora’s hand and closes her fingers around it.

“Yeah.”                                                                                                                    

.

Fiona’s smile never falters as she watches Nora go. Change, she thinks, is everywhere. Maybe her life will be worth something soon.

She bends down to pick up her purse from her chair when two arms enclose themselves around her neck. Before she has time to startle, Ruby’s chin presses into her shoulder. “I’m sorry we fought.” she says and Fiona can hear the pout in her voice.

Ruby lets go and Fiona turns around, still smiling. “I just want things to get better.” she says, and Ruby shrugs. “Me, too. But I’m not sure what that even means.”

Fiona tilts her head – look back to the exit.

“I think I have an idea or two.”

.

Phillip came back one week after they had lost him.

When Aurora heard the brushwood rustle behind her she was prepared for anything: a wild animal, the Queen’s soldiers, even a dragon.

When her fiancé tumbled out of a bush towards her, though — the arrow broken at the shaft, but still sticking through his shoulder — Aurora could do nothing but stare.

He was sweaty and dirty; there was dried blood on his cheek. He looked like he’d lived three times his age. But it was unmistakably Aurora’s prince.

“Phillip?”

Mulan was quick to push Aurora backwards. She had drawn her sword already.

“Phillip,” she tried. “Is that you?”

Her voice almost cracked. Her heart was beating fast — one part was pain, one part was hope.

Phillip remained silent. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He shook his head and seemed to focus.

Then he drew his own weapon.

Mulan heard Aurora stumble and fall. Her sobs almost made Mulan falter. But she had made a promise and she was going to keep it.

“I swore to keep Aurora safe,” she told the person who was once their beloved prince. “Turn around now. I won’t follow you.” She swallowed the ‘please’ that was lying on her tongue.

Phillip lifted his sword above his head and ran towards her without hesitation. His eyes were dead, and Mulan knew she would have to lose him again.     

Out of all possible evils the Queen could have sent their way, this was the cruelest.

Mulan’s hand shook when she fended off Phillip’s attacks. She pushed him away, but he kept coming at her. She didn’t dare look upon his face. She didn’t dare attack him, either.

She had taught Phillip how to fight, yet he was reckless, without tactic — it didn’t take much for Mulan to rid him off his weapon and throw him to the ground.

With one foot she held him down as he kept reaching for his sword.

Mulan looked down at him and tried, tried to come up with a plan to save her prince. And she cursed the heavens and the stars and the gods and the Queen.

She knew she had to make a decision. And she had to make it soon.

“Mulan,” Aurora was right behind her. The princess spoke calmly despite the agony in her voice.

“He’s a soulless body — a shell sent into battle.”

Mulan swallowed hard. She pointed her blade at Phillip’s throat. He kept dithering, his hand stretching towards his weapon.  

“Look at him,” Aurora pled. “That’s not the man I loved. That’s not the man you tutored.”

She stood beside Mulan, touched her arm and swallowed her tears. The witty princess understood that this was a battle they had to end together, and she would have to lend the warrior her strength.

So she stepped even closer, her hand wrapping around Mulan’s wrist.

“Phillip is long gone. He’s safe somewhere far away from here. The soldier lying to your feet doesn’t even breathe. His only goal is to fight, not to win, but only to kill. Please. End it.”

The warrior obeyed her princess, and silence fell upon the Enchanted Forest.

.

A week passes, and Fiona hasn’t heard from Nora, yet. Ruby is sweet about it — her random calls always include words of encouragement. She lets Fiona know how much she values her as her friend.

“It’s totally Nora’s loss,” she says, and Fiona almost buys it.

Excitement over her encounter with the beautiful stranger soon turns to disappointment and finally Fiona accepts that once again life has made a fool of her. Of course Nora would never call her! Of course she wouldn’t be this lucky! She laughs bitterly as she pulls her phone from her pocket. No missed calls, no messages — same as always.

She huffs and sends a text to Ruby:

“Are you at the diner? I’m on my lunch break.”

The reply comes immediately: “Sure. Come around.”

The truth is that Fiona’s been contemplating her occupation — even though she’s not sure what she wants from life, she is sure that the future she envisions doesn’t include doing the mayor’s laundry. She’s tired of cleaning up other people’s mess. And she’s tired of being looked down on.

Fiona doesn’t want to rely on brief encounters for someone to acknowledge her existence. Things are changing, everywhere. It’s time that they start changing for her, too. And now with a new sheriff in town the office will need a new deputy, too.

.

Her phone rings just as she cracks open the door to Granny’s. When she sees Ruby with her own phone pressed to her ear, waving for her to come in, she creases her eyebrows in confusion.

Ruby can’t seem to pull her to the side quickly enough. She presses a finger to her lips and points to the table to the far left and when Fiona — still confused — turns her head, she sees _her_. She hasn’t called and now she’s sitting there in dark jeans and black boots and some casual sweater as if this wasn’t a life altering moment — as if it was nothing more than a random encounter on a random day.

Fiona’s breath hitches and her heart starts beating viciously. She can feel it up to her throat and pounding in her temples, too.

“Are you alright?” She hears Ruby ask, and nods.

“We only met this one time. It’s not a big deal.” Except that it is, and she even doesn’t understand why. It’s infuriating.

She takes a deep breath, gathers up every piece of gumption she has left, and says: “I’m going to talk to her.” Before Ruby can object Fiona has already crossed the room and sat down opposite Nora, whose face is buried in a newspaper. Self-confidence, she thinks, feels quite right.

Her “Hey,” is met with wide eyes, shining as beautifully black as she remembered. Nora’s mouth falls open and she almost drops the paper.

“Hey,” she chokes out. 

When the pause after that stretches into silence, Fiona nods tersely and attempts to stand up. It’s only then that Nora seems to unfreeze.

“I should have called. I’m sorry.”

 Fiona doesn’t say anything, but sits back down.

“Everything’s a mess recently.” Fiona watches as Nora’s shoulders sag. Nora bites her lip, then attempts to sit up straight. “I really wanted to call.” she states, and even though Fiona knows it’s stupid, the tingling that she felt during their first encounter is back immediately.

“Well”, she says. “I’m here now.” She smiles at Ruby when she brings her a cup of coffee. Nora swallows, hard. “If you had called me, what would you have said?”

The faintest hint of dimples adorns Nora’s cheeks when she answers: “I would have asked you out for a coffee.”

Fiona purses her lips. “We’re having coffee. What else?”

Nora seems conflicted — her gaze is wandering across the room again, as if searching for an anchor. She shifts in her chair and — are those tears in her eyes?

Fiona falters.

Self-confidence feels good, she thinks, but it hangs on a thin thread. She hadn’t taken into account that being straight forward might push someone else back.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She lowers her voice to almost a whisper. She hadn’t thought about that maybe Nora wasn’t busy — that maybe there was a closet door keeping her from picking up the phone.

Again she attempts to get up and again Nora stops her. “It’s not like that.” Her voice is pleading and her eyes are begging.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable. In fact,” There it is again: the swallowing and the hesitation. “I’m sorry. I’m not good with words.” She squares her shoulders and furrows her brows and then for the first time during this awkward encounter she looks Fiona straight in the eyes.

“If I had called you, I would have asked you if you’re as confused as I am, because I don’t know you, and yet I feel like I do.”

Fiona watches, witnesses the flicker in her eyes return, watches a transformation take place. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you since the debate. And it feels like so much more than it should. You feel _right_.” She shakes her head, squints, then opens up and falls apart. “Everything’s a mess. I’m not sure about anything. And then here you are and we’ve just met and I’m crazy about you. I am crazy! I feel crazy! That’s why I didn’t call. So I wouldn’t throw all that at your head. I really only wanted a cup of coffee and a decent conversation — I’m sorry.” It’s gone again — all strength Fiona had witnessed grow and bloom, it withers and dies before her eyes. Nora is gone again and Fiona doesn’t dare ask where.

“Everything is changing.” Fiona states. “More and more people notice. You’re not crazy.”

Nora wipes her eyes, disbelief written across her face. “Doesn’t it freak you out?” Her voice trembles, but Fiona smiles.

“No,” she says. “Change is good. Change brings promise.”

“How can you be sure?” It hurts to watch Nora shrink to a tiny mess. She wants to reach across the table, grab the woman she saw only a few seconds ago and tell her to fight for whatever it is she dreams about. She wants to tell her to come back from this dark place she vanished to — that being around Nora makes her feel awake. That her strength, too, is clouded over with doubt and confusion and that _she_ makes Fiona into an entirely different person. She wants to say that the woman she sees before her reminds her of someone she knew, an image long gone, that hearing her voice is comforting — that she knows her warrior will always protect her.

She tenses immediately.

Warrior?

Startled, Fiona opens her mouth a couple of times, but within a span of a blink of an eye her mind is wiped clean again and all that remains is Nora’s last question.

“I’m not sure about anything.” she states. “Except that change means there’s a slight chance for things to improve.”

“What is _she_ doing here?”

Granny’s voice cuts through their conversation. Fiona jumps up from her chair and finds herself face to face with Mrs. Lucas. “You’re not welcome here. We’re honorable people in Storybrooke. We don’t need little tramps like you tainting our children’s thoughts.” Fiona blinks a few times, stumbles backwards, but Granny follows. “This is a nice town.”

Fiona’s eyes burn and her throat is tight. She wants to run, but can’t move. She wants to cry, but doesn’t want to give Granny the pleasure.

“Honorable?”

Nora stands up, too, and places her hand protectively on Fiona’s shoulder, pushes herself in front of Fiona.

“You insult your customers and call that honorable? Who gives you the right to talk to her like that?”

Fiona is dizzy. She hears Nora’s words, sees Granny take a few steps back — a small victory. She hears the clinging sound of metal against metal as the enemy fights back, sparks fly and an arrow hits Phillip’s shoulder.

She runs.

It’s poison!

The fresh air cools her head, calms her mind. She stops right outside Granny’s on the sidewalk, finds support on a lamp post, and waits. She doesn’t even know what she’s waiting for until Nora comes running out the door.

“Fiona?”

Out of reflex she straightens her posture. Her mind is still a buzzing mess, but those dreaded memories from someone else’s past are vanishing again already.

“Are you alright?”

Except that Nora’s presence alone seems to trigger something within her. And when Nora takes her hand and her questioning eyes stare right through her façade, a thought snatches free:

“I know you.”

She doesn’t know who’s leaned in first, but Nora’s lips are soft on her own and Nora’s hands are holding her tight. She reaches up, cups Nora’s face – she wants to cry, tears of confusion and rage. She’s angry about her world spinning faster with every second; she wants to understand what’s real. All she’s ever known is gloom and spite.

Now a stranger’s kiss promises a home.

When she lets go, neither of them smiles. Instead they look at each other, silently — there’s mutual understanding and equal irritation. And there are even more tears to be shed. Fiona knows that this world — the world she had stepped in a few long minutes ago, is true. But what does that say about everything else?

Nora ducks her head. There’s the beginning of a sob stuck in her throat and her lip trembles. She doesn’t look up when Fiona reaches out to touch her arm.

Words fail Fiona in the worst possible moment and Nora’s fears take the opportunity.

All Fiona can do is watch the warrior run and regress into an illusion.

.

Nora comes home to a ringing phone. Her cheeks are wet, her eyes are sore and her head is pounding. How is it possible to be so afraid of losing face and then jeopardize your dignity, because of that? How was it possible for her to question Granny’s honor and then load herself with shame only a few seconds later?

The answering machine beeps and her mother’s voice rambles about wedding arrangements — seating orders and the color of the bouquets and everything else that Nora couldn’t care less about. She wants to scream at the words coming from the machine. She wants to smash them with her fist, every syllable and every letter.

And she wants to start over and do it all again, just better. Now she’s stuck in a pile of promises she can’t keep. She can’t be the daughter her mother wants. She can’t be Hǎi’s faithful fiancée. And although those short moments with Fiona were the happiest she’s ever lived, Nora has gambled away the chance to start things right with her.

 _Her_ words — I know you — echo through Nora’s mind. It’s impossible to deny that she feels it, felt it, too. Like a stranger’s memory had been stored in her mind and was slowly cracking open the walls into her consciousness – taking over more and more space, creating knowledge about events she’s never seen. The images dance before her eyes — blurry silhouettes that vanish when she tries to focus in on them.

She touches her fingers to her lips and a new shiver of tears falls from her eyes.

Change is good, Fiona said.

But what if the things you can’t change taint all your possibilities?

.

Aurora refused to speak for twenty-one days. Her pain lay heavy on her tongue.

Mulan kept fighting — always. Guilt ate at her heart, but she never let on. As long as she had something to fight for, she had a purpose. Her mission kept her going.

She led Aurora through thick brushwood and deep valleys. She protected her princess from any harm; for Phillip — that’s what she told herself, at least.

She took Aurora by the hand in the depth of the night, and she cut vines and enemies to clear the path. When Aurora slept Mulan watched over her.

On the twenty-second day they arrived at Snow White’s castle, just to find it lie in deserted ruins.

The armies had abandoned their fortress to fight a battle elsewhere — Snow White’s troops were scattered across the lands.

Mulan and Aurora had come too late.

Exhausted Mulan fell to her knees at what used to be the castle’s archway. She felt her warrior spirit crack — as if Phillip’s poisoned arrow had been shot right through her heart. The warrior was beaten. The only thing that was left to do was to cower and hide her face in her palms to protect the last pieces of her shattered dignity.

“I failed you,” Her voice was barely audible. Too great was her shame. “I’m sorry.”

It was then that Aurora looked at Mulan and truly saw what she had lost. She saw the woman behind the warrior’s mask and her heart started to beat again.

She placed a hand on her warrior’s shoulder.

“Get up!” she demanded.

When Mulan shook her head, Aurora took her trembling hand and pulled her to her feet.

“You promised to protect me and you will keep your promise. I will not allow for you to give up.”

For a second time Mulan looked upon Aurora’s face to find more than her façade – she found tears and she found strength. And she admired the princess – cursed herself silently for showing weakness.

“I forbid it!”

Mulan nodded tersely. Even though she couldn’t mend Aurora’s broken heart or undo her own failure, she could still obey the princess’s orders. She could still protect her friend and prove herself worthy.

.

It takes Fiona three days to get out of bed.

She ignores Ruby’s calls, doesn’t listen to the messages she leaves on her answering machine, either. Her cell phone is switched off entirely in case Nora might want to reach her.

Granny’s words echo through her mind, like venom draining her energy. Those words become a rock, covering her body and pressing it down into the mattress. Fiona can’t bring herself to face anyone – not if that poison eats at her heart and renders her defenseless.

When she finally manages to push the duvet aside, it’s because fury has replaced devastation. It fuels her veins with new found power. Nora was right: How dare Granny speak to her like that?

And how dare Nora kiss her like she’s never been kissed before and then run and leave her with her questions?

She’s not going to let others push her around anymore.

And she’s got a job to apply for. She’s got changes to make.

.

Emma Swan seems like a kind person.

When Fiona calls Emma seems surprised, but informs her that she is indeed searching for a deputy and that she should come around for an interview.

Fiona meets Emma during her lunch break. She opens the door and finds the sheriff leaned back in her chair, boots on her desk. And she’s chewing on a bear claw.

“Can I help you?”

Emma swallows and gets up, leans her back against her desk.

“I called this morning,” Fiona says, cracking a smile and trying her best not to fumble or stutter. She doesn’t remember the last time she applied for a job — she doesn’t even recall how she got to be the mayor’s maid.

Emma furrows her eyebrows.

“Oh.”

She purses her lips.

“Well, you’re name’s Fiona, right?” Fiona nods. “Do you have any qualifications? You don’t look like you’ve worked for a police department before.”

Emma crosses her arm and waits. Fiona stares down to her ballerinas and the hem of her forest green dress: simple but elegant, she thought.

“What do you mean?”

Emma’s smile is crooked.

“Nevermind.”

She eyes Fiona up, but it doesn’t strike Fiona as condescending. She’s regarding her counterpart. “Why do you want to work for me?”

This one is easy to answer: “I need a change.”

Fiona squares her shoulders, looks Emma directly in the eyes.

“Change is happening all around me. Things are changing for the better, for everyone. I want to help make these changes. I want to contribute.”

She breathes in, never dropping eye contact, and waits. Emma licks her teeth, seems to ponder her answer.

“Change, huh?” She crosses her arms. “And what can you contribute?”

Fiona contemplates. She’s never actually done anything.

“I’m stronger than I look.” she states. “I have a good eye for detail. I’m a hard worker. I learn fast. And I’m determined, if that counts.”

Emma eyes her up again, raises an eyebrow.

“What have you been doing until now?”

Half surprised that Emma hasn’t kicked her out of the office, yet, Fiona sags her shoulders and responds:  “I’m a maid. I’m working for the mayor.”

At that Emma’s eyes seem to light up for a second.

“The mayor? She won’t like it if you’re going to work for me.” It sounds like the idea pleases her.

Fiona shrugs. “I don’t care.”

Emma nods and this time her smile is smug.

“When I first got here,” she says, “I was asked to stay a week. One week to see if I fit into this town — if I want to stay. And now I’m sheriff. You’re right: things _are_ changing.”

She takes a breath and makes a decision: “You get a week. If you prove that you can do the job, you got it.”

Fiona’s first instinct is to ask if she misheard her. Then she realizes that her mouth is hanging open, and shakes her head, shakes away the irritation.

“Thank you,” she says as calmly as possible. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Emma’s smile turns into a grin.

“You’ll have to wear something different, though.” She points at Fiona’s dress.

“Because a feminine woman won’t be taken seriously?” Fiona snaps and Emma laughs.

“Snarky. I like that.”

Fiona likes how Emma looks her straight in the eye and how she never wavers, and she likes the spark behind her blue, like she’s seen more in her life, like she’s been on adventures.

“But I was actually referring to the fact that it’s a lot easier to run in pants.” 

Now Fiona is laughing, too.

“Oh! Of course. Will I have to wear a uniform?”

Emma immediately waves her off. “I never wore that ugly thing and you won’t have to, either. Just wear the badge and we’re good.”

.

Nora, too, has made a decision.

She’s folding up laundry at her mother’s house. Her cheeks are burning from dried tears.  She hasn’t been sleeping well these past few days. And Fiona won’t answer her calls.

She can’t even blame her.

“Remember to call Hǎi later,” her mother says nonchalantly as she passes her by. “And put on something nice. I’ll pick out a dress for you.”

Nora stops.

“I’m not wearing a dress.” Her heart beats rapidly and she tries, tries to suppress her anger. She balls her fists and turns around to face her mother. “I told you I hate wearing dresses.”

She pulls at the hem of her shirt, bites her lip, and ignores her mother’s shocked expression.

“I’m wearing whatever I want.”

She can already see the anger growing in her mother’s face and she knows what’s coming next. She knows the reprimands and she knows that she’ll cave. But not this time – this time she leaves before she gets an answer.

The victory is small, but it’s a victory nonetheless.

.

When she calls her fiancé he sounds joyful, even when she cancels their date.

“I actually need to talk to you anyway,” he says.

Nora isn’t really listening, because right now she’s striding quickly towards the address Ruby gave her.

“We’ll talk,” she agrees before hanging up.

It’s late afternoon and the sun is setting already. Nora freezes, but she doesn’t care. There are a few things that need to be set right. Even if she won’t get a second chance with Fiona, she owes her an apology.

Only that her determination shrinks with every step she gets closer to her destination. And when she finally walks up to Fiona’s apartment and stands in front of her door, she can only stare.

“What am I even doing here?”

She wipes her palm across her face and stops again. She feels like an intruder and yet she can’t bring herself to leave. Fiona obviously doesn’t want to see her, so why is she here?

She reaches into her bag, digs through it, and finally pulls out a sheet of paper and a pen. If she can’t face Fiona without seeming like a stalker, she can at least leave her a message.

She sits down, her back pressed against the wall next to Fiona’s door, and thinks – she thinks about what she needs to say, what she can say – does she have the right to say anything?

“Dear Fiona,” she starts and stares at the sheet. If this is her one chance to put things right she’ll have to choose her words wisely. But how to convey everything that has happened – and everything she has felt?

And isn’t it silly to feel so much about two brief encounters?

Nora closes her eyes and Fiona’s image immediately forces away all gloomy thoughts. It’s like she’s always been there, waiting. She’s always been there supporting Nora to be a better person. Nora has never felt so strong before, so sure about herself.

But Fiona smiled and took her hand and slew all of Nora’s demons.

“I’m sorry that I ran.” she writes and the rest drains from her veins, manifests thoughts into words, as if someone else was writing.

She writes about the war she’s forced to fight and how she can’t rely on her companions; she writes about how dull her weapon has become and how it only shines after Fiona’s words have sharpened her blade. She writes about the armor she wears and the mask that comes with it. And she writes about how every battle is hopeless if you have nothing to fight for.

When she gets up she’s exhausted. She folds the paper, carefully, because it’s a treasure now — a chest full of truth. And she bends down to slide it beneath Fiona’s door when…

“Nora?”

There she stands, mouth hanging open, eyes full of light as well as questions.

Nora attempts to hide the folded letter behind her back but Fiona is faster.

“What is that?” she demands, stretching out her hand towards Nora.

Nora swallows. “I came to apologize to you,” she explains and ducks her head.

“But then you decided to flee like a coward instead?”

Fiona is still reaching for the letter and gestures for Nora to hand it over.

“I believe that’s for me.”

Nora has no chance but to obey.

“I’m not a scary person,” Fiona sighs when she takes the letter and opens the door. “Come in.”

Before Nora can register what’s happening, Fiona has pulled her inside her apartment.

It’s a small place, Nora notes — about as small as her own. Dark laminate, light beige walls, a queen sized bed in one corner and a kitchen counter in the other. A glass door opposite the entrance leads to a tiny balcony where Fiona has placed various flowers. They’re all in bloom in different colors.

“Sit.” Fiona pulls out a chair and again Nora obeys. She watches as Fiona sits on the edge of her bed and unfolds the letter.

It’s nerve wrecking. Fiona takes her time, never looks up. Her eyes scan the lines; sometimes she blinks away a thought before moving on. She doesn’t comment — she only reads.

When she’s done she swallows thickly.

“You’re engaged.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

Nora averts her eyes again. “Yeah.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“But you don’t want to marry him.”

“No.”

Fiona holds the letter up, re-reads a few lines before placing it on her night stand.

“This is the sweetest, most twisted thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Nora’s stomach flips then tightens. “I feel so stuck. I never meant to hurt you, I swear.”

“That’s what your letter says.” Fiona purses her lips, then pats the space next to her. “Come here.”

Nora doesn’t dare hesitate. It feels familiar yet strange. The need to do as Fiona wishes runs through her muscles and moves her forward. It’s not a force — it’s natural. She can almost see the battle field. She’s almost back in the ruins of the princess’ castle where they met for the first time. She can almost hear her friend call Fiona’s true name.

Almost.

When she sits down Fiona takes her hand again. “I’m deputy now.”

Nora blinks and stares. “What?”

Fiona giggles. “I applied for the job and I got it. I didn’t think I would, but I did. Just like that.”

Nora can almost hear the words. _You need to find something worth fighting for_ — _a girl, perhaps. And you can’t give up._

Fiona says: “I wasn’t happy with my life before. I felt like a failure — as if there was nothing to accomplish for me. But I told you: things are changing. I decided that I have to make changes, too. And now I’m deputy.”

Nora’s breath hitches; her head is pounding. And Fiona becomes more beautiful with every word she speaks.

“What I’m trying to say is that if you want something then you can’t wait around for it to happen to you. You have to _make_ it happen.” The flicker in her eye becomes a glint and she’s speaking with a new voice – a voice Nora remembers from a dream. “You have to show everyone that you have the spirit to do what you’re striving for.”

And it just clicks.

Nora snaps alive and surges forward into Fiona’s arms. Fiona gasps, but recovers quickly, and eagerly returns the kiss.

It’s like something wakes up inside Nora and she pushes Fiona into the mattress, presses her body’s full length against her.

She feels a force inside herself, something that was buried and suffocated, and with each inch Nora’s hands explore of Fiona’s skin this force takes over; she feels free. They kiss and Fiona holds on to Nora as if she was holding on to dear life — they might as well be drifting away into a land far, _far_ away — where dreams are true and happy endings still exist.

Then Fiona reaches out again, reaches for her heart, reaches for her jeans. It feels like they’ve done this — again and again on green meadows and in dark forests by the fire. It’s new but it’s not. They both know what they’re doing and yet they’re clueless.

And when Fiona touches her just _so,_ Nora thinks she might fall apart beneath Fiona’s careful fingertips. Fiona’s inside her, around her, covering her, pushing deeply, pushing her further and further. They breathe together, move together.

It only takes a few moments until Fiona’s back arches up against Nora and a white flash erases all thought from Nora’s mind when she tumbles right after.

They’re gone. There’s nothing left. All Nora feels are Fiona’s hand between her legs, Fiona’s lips pressed to her neck, Fiona’s arm curling around her back to hold the two of them together.

Nora dives into the feeling, lets herself be carried away, pushes herself past the shores of reality to travel just a little further.

But of course, the moment ends, and so does all precious comfort.

Nora snaps back into her old form like a rubber band and all thoughts of change and progress are clouded over with anxiety. She doesn’t even know what she’s scared of. She only knows that she can’t stay.

So she runs.

Again. 

.

On night number forty-two they sat by a dry well to rest.

Mulan’s goal was to keep Aurora safe and Aurora’s goal was to keep the warrior in Mulan alive. They protected each other and stayed out of combat if possible. The fight against Phillip had worn them out. The search for allies had long ended.

The Evil Queen’s wrath had painted the sky black; days turned into nights and nights were filled with gloom.

Mulan looked at the sky and thought how their hopes had vanished together with the stars. The blackness of the heavens above them promised emptiness instead of opportunity — dead ends instead of future.

She sighed and leaned back against the cool stone of the old well.

“What are you thinking about?”

Aurora was not watching the sky. She was watching Mulan. She wasn’t thinking about stars — she was thinking about her warrior’s bravery and strength.

“Honor. How to do you justice — if I still can.”

Aurora's heart sank. She took Mulan’s hand and squeezed it tight.

“You have been by my side through the darkest of days. I don’t cherish anything else in the world anymore, because everything has been robbed from us. But I do cherish you.”

This time, when they looked at each other, they didn’t see what they had lost. They only saw what they still had left.

Somewhere on their journey the witty princess and the mighty warrior had fallen in love.

.

Regret follows as it always does.

Nora has run home and as if the burden wasn’t heavy enough, there stands her mother, glaring at her.

“Not now,” she tries, but it’s no use.

“You canceled your date,” her mother yells. “Do you even know how much work I put into your future? Do you know what it cost me to get that arrangement for you? And what are you wearing? A woman is not supposed to dress like that!”

It’s possibly the fact that her mind is still dizzy from what just happened that Nora can’t bring herself to care. All she wants is to breathe for five minutes, to process, to digest the fact that she screwed up again — to find a way to deal with the consequences. All she wants is for her mother to leave. So she spits:

“A woman, mother, is not supposed to do a lot of things. A woman is not supposed to shame what another woman does. A woman is not supposed to poison her child’s life. And a woman is not supposed to despise her own daughter.”

Only the sound of the door falling shut behind her makes her realize what she’s just done.

.

Back in her apartment Fiona cries into her pillow.

Change, she thinks, she wanted change, but not for the worse. Her attempts to mend her heart broke it in two viciously.

And maybe it’s because it’s meant to be. Maybe she’s not worthy of being loved. Maybe she’s not good enough for being deputy. Maybe she should just go back to sleep and sleep a hundred years — let vines with thorns grow to a thick shield protecting her slumber. She could outlive everyone and wake up in a new land, kissed awake by someone who will cherish her.

She reaches out for her phone and deletes Nora’s number.

.

A few days pass. Nora is a mess.

She hasn’t even tried calling Fiona and she hasn’t spoken to her mother. She hasn’t spoken to Hǎi. She hasn’t spoken to anyone.

Now she’s on her way back from the grocery store, because unfortunately she still needs to eat occasionally. Brooding in the darkness and pitying herself and feeling bad about feeling bad and feeling guilty about feeling guilty has consumed her energy. She wanders the streets like a stranger.

Grey, she thinks. Everything’s grey: all the buildings, all the people, all their clothes.

Her stomach rumbles and she opens the bag. Of course, as soon as she starts digging one strap of the bag slides from her shoulder and apples rolls out over the pavement; her tooth paste and a pack of chewing gum follow right after.

As she bends down to pick up the items she almost starts to cry, then she beats herself up for being pathetic, which only makes her want to cry harder.

Where’s her honor now?

When everything is back where it belongs and Nora comes back up her face passes a sign in a window:

“Help wanted”

It should be insignificant, because she’s not searching for work; except that this store is a weapon shop, and Nora immediately feels a pull towards one of the swords on display: It’s a beautiful broad sword, the blade shines silver. It’s plain, no engravings, no ornaments — brass pommel.

Nora wonders how she even knows what a pommel is.

Then she realizes someone’s standing next to her: A man, tall, blonde and handsome. He stands there like a newbie to the world.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” he asks, and Nora can’t do anything but to nod silently.

“My name is David.”

Nora furrows her brows in confusion, but decides to be polite for once.

“I’m Nora.”

His eyes glow with enthusiasm, like a child’s, like they’ve never seen anything before — anything at all.

It reminds her of her dreams, the dreams about golden locks and smiles and a future to strive for — dreams that she keeps forgetting. So she looks at him, searches for the hope she’s longing for. Maybe, if she manages to catch a glimpse of the visions that belong to the night, they’ll stick during the day. Maybe she’ll remember not to let go of Fiona.

David catches her stare. He smiles kindly and ignores the sudden blush on her cheeks.

“I don’t remember anything,” he says.

Nora doesn’t respond, just keeps staring, and listens. He takes a breath, and he presses his lips together; suddenly he looks old and worn out – like he’s seen too much in a too short period of time.

“I woke up from a coma recently.”

He shakes his head, obviously trying to sort his thoughts. “I woke up and I don’t know who I am anymore. I could be your best friend and I wouldn’t know.”

It almost sounds like an apology. Nora doesn’t have time to answer.

“And now I find myself drawn to people and to things that everybody tells me I don’t have a history with.” He nods towards the shop window. “Like swords.” He swallows. “I don’t know how to sword fight and yet I feel like one of those belongs to me; like I’m meant to have it; like I’ve fought…. maybe I have, once in a dream.”

His smile is sad now, and his eyes are glistening when he looks Nora in the eye again. “That’s silly, right? I know I must sound foolish…”

“No,” Nora interrupts him firmly. “I mean, yes, it does sound silly, but if you’re foolish then so am I.”

He creases his brow and his mouth is agape and his eyes are slowly regaining the twinkle from before.

“Wha…”

“I’m fighting in my dreams as well,” she says. The words taste strange. She’s never said them out loud before.

“And I don’t remember much, either. I don’t think I know who I am.”

He shakes his head in wonder — turns fully towards her.

“Have you been in a coma, too?”

Nora contemplates his question for a second or maybe two. She stretches her fingers towards the ground, then curls them to tight fists.

“Every day,” she finally says. “Whenever I wake up I’m going back into a coma. And I’m drawn to strange things like swords and people I shouldn’t know, and I always feel too much for everything that doesn’t matter.”

It’s like a curtain lifts between them. There’s recognition; there’s understanding. None of them has felt that before.

“I’ve met a woman.” David’s voice is vibrating with new found confidence; his eyes brighter than before.

“I’m drawn to her, but I can’t be with her — life won’t let me. It’s like whenever I’m trying to make the right decision something stops me. It always seems like my own doing, but it’s somehow _not_. I have all these choices to make, but when I look at the options I have, there’s nothing really to decide.”

Nora laughs, a small relief, because she’s found an ally while wandering through darkness.

“I’ve met someone, too. But I’m about to be married. And I don’t want to be married, but I never put my foot down and say no. And I don’t want to work for a tailor. I want to work here, in this shop. But I pass by this place every day and although now it seems like a magnet, I’ve never even looked into the window before today.”

David glows with life, but there’s sadness, too. “I’m married,” he says. “But I have to remind myself of her name every day, whilst the other name I can’t forget. I don’t want to be married, and yet I never say so.”

They share the next smile.

“I think I love her.” Nora says.

She doesn’t even realize her words until David answers: “Mary Margaret?”

Nora snickers. “No. Fiona.” Then, after a pause, she asks: “Do you love _her_?”

And again David seems confused: “Fiona?” And again Nora snickers.

“Mary Margaret!”

They laugh until David seems to remember — not something from this life — something from his dreams. “It’s so weird. Yes. Yes! I do.”

Nora nods in understanding and they turn to look at the swords again. Nora thinks about dreams and reality; she thinks about how nothing seemed true until a couple of weeks ago and how she’s connected to people in the most unexpected ways — how she finds them in the most absurd random situations. A part of her kick starts alive.

“I’m going to apply here,” she decides. “I’m going to do what I want to do. I’m going to put my foot down and I’m going to find Fiona.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready, yet.” David answers. “I need to go. Good luck to you.”

He takes her hand, squeezes it tight. “I’ll be sure to stop by here and see how life’s been treating you.”

Nora watches him leave and hopes they’ll meet again someday.

.

Fiona’s phone rings seven times the first week. Nora leaves her five messages, too — tearful speeches which Fiona always cuts short.

Another letter comes with the mail during week number two.

The third week Fiona has to ignore only two calls and one message.

In the fourth week the phone stays silent and Ruby finally stops asking. They don’t meet at Granny’s anymore. Instead Ruby stops by Fiona’s place every now and then, although the visits are rare.

Fiona is the kind of girl who stopped watering her flowers and has a heart loaded with baggage. She does her job dutifully and with just the right amount of fake enthusiasm. When Emma smiles at her she smiles back, but it hurts. And when Ruby shoots her an apologetic expression for not being a better friend it hurts even more.

She floats through the day like a ghost and she dies every night.

There are no dreams to comfort her.

All echoes of that voice she used to hear are gone and long forgotten. They disappeared together with the images of hope and change.

Fiona holds her head high now when she walks the streets — not with pride but as protection. She has summoned all her demons to make her sleep forever.

She hates her life. From the bottom of her heart, she hates it.

From now on every day will be one step further towards death.

“I really want to leave this place,” Ruby says once, over a cup of coffee.

Fiona smiles bitterly and sets her own cup aside. She says:

“You know exactly that we’re not going anywhere.”

.

It’s sudden and it’s forceful.

It breaks minds and hearts and curses.

.

Nora is at work, cleaning one of the swords in the gallery when a jolt of _something_ rushes through her and then — then Mulan remembers!

She remembers traveling through the woods and fighting with Prince Phillip. She remembers mourning his death and promising to take care of…

… Aurora!

“Aurora!” Mulan jumps up and starts off, kicking off the sandals she’s been wearing. She grabs a fist full of skirt in each hand and runs.

She remembers the purple cloud and she remembers holding on to her princess.

“Aurora!”

She remembers loving her. And it’s like love is streaming through her now, taking over every cell. She’s been lost for twenty-eight years. Now it’s like every second she was supposed to miss the life she had comes flashing before her.

She runs through the streets and she trips and almost falls. Her heart wants to burst into a million pieces. It glows like the sun and aches like pure darkness. She cries.

“Aurora!”

Her voice breaks and she’s out of breath when she reaches the library. There are people everywhere, people she knows from now or from then. They’re shouting and screaming and laughing and dancing and hugging and kissing each other’s grief away. She sees David embrace the woman he loves and runs further. The sheriff’s office is not far.

“Mulan!”

She hears her love before she sees her.

“Mulan!”

It’s the sweetest sound she’s ever known. It’s the first time someone speaks her name — her true name, and Mulan wouldn’t want anyone else to be the first to welcome her back.

Mulan has barely time to open her arms before her face is pressed into Aurora’s shoulder. Golden locks glide through her fingers; Mulan holds on to Aurora as tight as she can and now her tears are those of joy.

Then she realizes that Aurora, too, is sobbing. “You’re here,” Aurora says. “We’re here. We’re together.”

Mulan lifts Aurora by the waist and twirls her around and her chest explodes with light, because when she sets her down she can feel Aurora’s heart beating against hers and everything’s finally the way it’s supposed to be again.

Aurora surges forward and presses her lips to Mulan’s.

They cry and laugh and never break the kiss. Mulan strokes soft locks and never breaks the kiss. And Aurora’s hands squeeze Mulan’s waist and grab at her back and cup her face and remember every feeling in the world that’s supposed to be hers, and she never breaks the kiss.

Many apologies are whispered and murmured between even more kisses. Only when Aurora breaks into laughter do they part.

“You’re wearing a dress!” she exclaims, tears in her eyes.

Mulan smiles, too, at the absurdity. Her mind is a whirlwind still. She takes Fiona’s — Aurora’s — hands into her own, looks her princess in the eyes, and remembers everything once more: every line of Aurora’s face and every flicker in her eye.

She remembers the first time Aurora kissed her that one night by the well. She remembers meadows green and softly spoken words in moments that were supposed to be unforgettable.

Aurora’s expression is earnest now. “Phillip is dead.” she says. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

Mulan nods tersely. She misses him, too.

“He took an arrow so you could live. He died protecting you from the Queen’s army. That’s how we can be here now. I will forever be indebted to him. Let’s cherish his memory now that we can.”

Again Aurora closes her arms around Mulan’s waist. She presses her cheek to her warrior’s chest and closes her eyes. She remembers that all she has to do is breathe and let her heart beat in unison with that of her love.

Mulan’s grip around Aurora becomes tighter. She presses Aurora to her heart — once more reassuring herself that they’re both here. And she watches the horizon. She hears the battle songs clearly now. The warrior’s spirit has returned.

.

The purple cloud promises change again.

Mulan is quick to push Aurora behind her back. “Hold on to me tight,” she says, but Aurora takes her hand instead and steps beside her.

“No matter what happens next, what evil we will have to face, or what magic we will have to fight — we’ll get through this together.”

And just because she can she looks upon her warrior’s face. All façades have long fallen apart. All that’s left is the warmth beneath Mulan’s armor.

Mulan squeezes Aurora’s hand and presses her lips together.  

“I will always protect you,” she declares. “Because I love you.”

“And no harm shall be inflicted upon either of us,” Aurora responds and her face lights up. “Because I love you, too.”

.

The witty princess and the mighty warrior fought their way through two realities, through dreams and through illusions.

Their battles aren’t over, yet.

But they will live in shared dreams and the reality of the day — together.

And they will keep on fighting for their happy ending.


End file.
